Under the Light of Darkness
by Sandry of Ruatha
Summary: Eomer reflects on how he met his bride. Pure EL fluff.


A/N: My muses bit me. Go figure. Songfic to _Hero, _Eomer/Lothiriel.

Disclaimer: I own the universe and everything in it. Unfortunately, sometimes my slaves decide to create beings of their own. Such was the case with these, my little grandchildren. I merely act in loco parentis.

-

Eomer sat on the crest of the hill that led up to Meduseld, watching the rising sun with unseeing eyes. He was lost in a beautiful reverie of his own memories, recalling long gallops over the plains of Rohan with Firefoot, his eored at his back, free as the wind. He was remembering the defeat of evil, the victories he and his people had won.

He was remembering the days after those victories, when the White City of Minas Tirith was lit with candles like flickering stars every night in the ecstasy of that same freedom, and the kings and princes of the free lands gathered together in the citadel to drink, and dance, and eat in friendship.

It was then, on the third night, that he had met her. His dear friend, Imrahil, who was very much a father to all of them, had sent for his eldest son, Elphir, who had been guarding the city of Dol Amroth. With Elphir, his wife and his young son Alphros, had come his sister Lothiriel.

Lothiriel… In his mind's eye he could see her seeping into the room for the first time, her demeanour mottled with confidence and shyness, her dark hair tumbling freely over her shoulders, her eyes resting on each of them in turn as she curtsied to Elessar and to him… He could not tear his eyes away from her gentle face, nor hear the music over the soft music of her voice. Already he could feel something stirring deep inside him, underneath the warrior's veneer that had been built up so strongly. Perhaps, someday, an appreciation for Lothiriel's beauty might become something more…

He had always suspected that his friend had guessed his fascination with Lothiriel, even than, because Elessar called for the tables to be cleared away for dancing earlier than usual. They paired off; Elessar and Arwen, Elphir with his wife Estelwen, his sister Eowyn with Faramir, Erchirion and Amrothos- Lothiriel's two other brothers- with a pair of court ladies, each flirting shamelessly. Looking back, Eomer has no idea how he had managed to pluck up the courage to do what he did. Perhaps he had been entranced, dreaming, without possession of his senses. He doubted it, because he could recall every moment of this, too; standing, approaching, bowing, kissing her hand, asking for a dance, and then bringing her on to the dance floor and spinning with his angel.

_Would you dance  
If I asked you to dance  
Would you run  
And never look back  
Would you cry  
If you saw me crying  
And would you save my soul tonight_

They moved out onto the balcony, each flying on a perfect cloud of delirious, romantic happiness; young love personified; Eomer, watching her with intense eyes, had seen her shoulders shiver from the cold night air. As gently, tenderly as he could, he took his cloak from his own shoulders and swept it over hers. He smiled to see her lifting her chilled face upwards to his, and it was as if the bright moon had brushed away the clouds and shone forth in all her brilliance.

The moonlight that came from the sky, too, was illuminating her flawless features, and Eomer saw with protective concern that her powerful, passionate eyes were lined with silver tears that shone in the light of the darkness. Unthinking, he brought a hand up to brush the tears away, and found he could not bear to take his hand from her cheek once it was resting there.

_Would you tremble if I touched your lips  
Would you laugh  
Please tell me this_

He would never have had the courage to do it if he had had time to think about it. He would have thrust the walls back up in swift desperation. But in that time, and in that place, there were no thoughts… He reached down to touch her unblemished lips with his, and curved a strong arm around her slender waist.

_  
Now would you die for the one you loved  
Hold me in your arms tonight_

_I can be your hero baby  
I can kiss away the pain  
I will stand by you forever  
You can take my breath away_

She responded, leaning in towards him, her warrior, her protector, her champion, her defender. She had suffered so much pain in this war, and he had fought it for her, for all the innocents who could not rise up to defend themselves…

_Would you swear that you'll always be mine  
Would you lie  
Would you run away  
Am I in too deep  
Have I lost my mind  
I don't care, you're here tonight_

He had no idea how long they stood there, entwined, Lothiriel resting within his arms; he knew only that it was an eternity. This might be mad, but it was a madness that brought with it happiness like nothing he had ever known. They did not know each other, they had never met before that night, but that night was all that mattered, and they knew everything that mattered…

_I can be your hero, baby  
I can kiss away the pain  
I will stand by you forever  
You can take my breath away_

_I just want to hold you  
I just want to hold you  
Am I in too deep  
Have I lost my mind  
Well I don't care  
You're here tonight_

He knew he could never let her go, knew that he would never be able to free himself from her spell, from her innocent healing. He knew he could never release her to another man, nor let her walk out of his life without another word. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life by the side of this stranger…

_I can be your hero, baby  
I can kiss away the pain  
I will stand by you forever  
You can take my breath away_

_And I can be your hero  
I can kiss away the pain  
And I will stand by you forever  
You can take my breath away  
You can take my breath away_

_And I can be your hero_

Eomer sat on the crest of the hill, watching the sunrise with a smile. He heard the slow canter of familiar hoof beats behind him, and the affectionate neigh of Firefoot as his stallion's favourite mare approached. He heard the soft nickers of the two horses as the rider dismounted, and felt a welcome chill as a shadow was cast over him. Turning his head to greet the footsteps he knew so well, he reached up a hand to take the pale, slender fingers of his wife.

His eyes met hers, as passionate and as powerful as ever, though softened from that wild night under the light of darkness. A willowy golden circlet rested on her midnight hair, and she wore a loose white dress bound only with a golden girdle.

They walked together, hand in hand, to the golden hall of Meduseld, their horses walking behind.

No longer strangers.


End file.
